 | The Cup of Quietness |  |
36
GENTLE SHAKESPEARE
As one who hears the tide of traffic roll
Around the silent temple where he kneels,
Hears it but heeds it not, and only feels
The eternal harmonies enthral his soul;
Even so thy master-music doth control
The world's heart-wearying discordance, heals
The rankling wounds which pride or passion deals,
And makes the fever-stricken spirit whole.
Around the silent temple where he kneels,
Hears it but heeds it not, and only feels
The eternal harmonies enthral his soul;
Even so thy master-music doth control
The world's heart-wearying discordance, heals
The rankling wounds which pride or passion deals,
And makes the fever-stricken spirit whole.
O gentle Shakespeare—for by that kind name
Thy friends best knew thee—in these blatant days
Of shriller voices, meaner minds, we bless
The majesty of thine immortal fame,
Thy power and wisdom win our fervent praise,
But most of all we love thy gentleness.
Thy friends best knew thee—in these blatant days
Of shriller voices, meaner minds, we bless
The majesty of thine immortal fame,
Thy power and wisdom win our fervent praise,
But most of all we love thy gentleness.
| The Cup of Quietness | |